The Beauty of Damnation
by TibiIpsiDicVere
Summary: A prequel to 'A Midnight Stroll'. In which Jem forces Will to confront something he has dreaded ever since the end of Clockwork Prince...


Tessa inhaled deeply, gathering her strength. She pushed open the dining room door.

Jem and Will were already seated, and Sophie was serving breakfast onto the long table – a silver tea service and some plain, unbuttered slices of toast next to a dish of butter. Sophie did not look up at Tessa, and scarcely made a sound. Her face was solemn as she promptly finished her work and left the room. Cecily was nowhere to be seen, and neither were Charlotte or Henry.

Jem was dressed in a gray suit – neat as always, though Tessa thought that the drab shade made his skin seem frightfully pale, broken only by the high flush over his cheekbones. Tessa could see the tip of a winged black rune infused to the delicate, pale skin on his neck, edging slightly over his starched white collar. He was drinking steaming tea from a small china cup, looking perfectly tranquil; if not with a curious expression in his eyes, which were locked on his parabatai seated opposite.

Will was gazing studiously downwards, his thick hair tumbling over his forehead, concealing his face. The jet black colour shone from the concentrated white light of late morning coming through the windows. His dress was slovenly and careless as usual, though it bespoke of something more akin to exhaustion — as though his clothes were literally falling apart at the seams. The shoulders of his blazer jacket were scuffed and Tessa felt a latent sense of anxiety as to where he had been roaming during the night. He was slumped, his broad shoulders bent forwards to the table, straining against the worn and dirty fabric of his jacket, which looked too small for his figure. His deft fingers were occupied in shredding the toast on his plate, and his ringed index finger flicked them around the plate in a desultory fashion. She wanted him to look up. _Will, look at me, please._

But Tessa looked away from him, sharply chastising herself. It was all wrong, so wrong. She should not feel this. She wished to God she could overlook him, care about him only as a fond acquaintance. _Nothing more, _she told herself firmly. As Jem's fiancée, she knew she had no right to be so solicitous about another gentlemen's welfare – it was entirely improper. Tessa thought with withering guilt what Jem would think of her if he knew the thoughts that were snaking through her mind right now, possessing her during the day and following her into her nightmares, unbidden though they were.

Jem leaned over and plucked a piece of toast from the grill, scraped some butter onto it and began to eat. He looked up, alerted to Tessa's presence from swish of her skirts. "Good morning, Tessa," The joy that rippled his expression gave the effulgent pewter of his eyes a beautiful ethereality. Tessa's heart began to beat a giddy rhythm in her chest.

"Hello, Jem." She smiled back, feeling relieved at the sight of his smile. It was blissful after the night she had spent tossing and turning in a mire of anguish.

"How are you this morning?" He asked her as she reached him. Tessa watched Jem's eyes as they lovingly searched her face, as though he was half expecting her to respond with some fascinating tale of her journey from her room. "You look…tired, love. What's wrong?" His fingers brushed tenderly along the back of her left hand. Tessa tried not to feel embarrassed with such easy familiarity and affection in front of other members of the Institute; especially in front of Will. Jem's head cocked to the side, a small line appearing between his brows.

Tessa waved away his concern, her cheeks hot despite herself. "Oh, nothing. You know how women are apt to worry about weddings and such things," Tessa immediately regretted mentioning it; blisteringly aware of Will's eyes on her. She thought she felt him sit up to attention, as if she could physically sense every movement he made, despite the table separating them.

Jem gave her a conciliating smile. "You have nothing to worry about. What could go wrong?" He stood and chivalrously pulled out the chair next to him. She sat, smiling, and he pushed her in. As Jem seated himself again, Tessa vacillated over whether greeting Will was worth the trouble if the sight of her was so repugnant to him that he refused to glance at her, or mumble a polite greeting. Tessa felt a horrid twinge in her chest, a painfully hollow ache as her heart skipped a few beats. But of course, propriety demanded that Tessa could never be blatantly uncivil to him; even with his barefaced discourtesy.

"Good morning, Will," Tessa heard her own voice as if from a distance: cold and formal.

He didn't look at her. "Good morning, Tessa," he replied tonelessly. He sounded utterly uncaring, as if he was so afflicted with ennui that he couldn't trouble himself to feign even the barest interest.

_He hates me, _Tessa fretted. _So much. And after how I treated him... I cannot blame him._

Then Tessa noticed that, although he looked perfectly casual and bored; he held his shoulders down with a kind of iron rigidity, as though he was supporting some unbearably heavy weight across them. His jaw was tensed, his arms pressed close to his side.

"What were you worrying about?" Jem asked her, interrupting her reverie.

"Just…" Tessa panicked. "Whether or not the Clave will accept our proposal, what with me being a—" Tessa decided to refrain from classifying herself. "And, you know, if they do allow it, then there's everything yet to organise - where the wedding will take place, what I shall wear…" It occurred to Tessa suddenly, as she said the words, that these were the thoughts and concerns a young lady in her position _ought_ to have spent her nights worrying about.

"You do not need to worry," Jem replied equably. "The Clave has no real grounds upon which to refuse our marriage, I'm quite sure of it. And as for wedding clothes, it is customary to wear gold when marrying a Shadowhunter." He informed her.

"Gold?" Tessa repeated, surprised. "But I'm not a Shadowhunter."

"I suppose not, but you have had Shadowhunter training as well as being extremely well acquainted with our ways - better than some other Shadowhunters I know. It is up to you, of course, but if you wish to get married as a Shadowhunter then I would I would have no objection," Jem's face looked hopeful. Tessa felt oddly pressured, not sure what to say. Before she could reply, he continued, "It shall be quite different for you, I suppose. Mundanes wear white, do they not?" Jem looked mildly disturbed by the idea of — what was to him, funereal colours — to attend a wedding.

"Yes. It symbolises purity, you see," Tessa said. No sooner had the words escaped her mouth, than she heard an amused snicker from Will across from the table. Tessa's heart flipped and leaped, suddenly terrified at what he was going to say. _Would he renege on his promise he had given me after the ball? Would he betray me to Jem? Right here? Would he hurt his parabatai in such a way? Surely not…_But it was a hopeless affair; Will was unpredictability itself.

She waited but Will was quiet, saying nothing. He continued to shred his toast – almost ferociously, now. Tessa swallowed nervously.

"Oh, Will?" Jem asked, looking towards him.

"Yes, James?" He looked up finally, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead as he turned to Jem.

"Charlotte asked me to ask you — and I confess I had completely forgotten about it because, well, you are my parabatai, surely you would—"

"Jem, _do_ get to point the point before grow old and die," he quipped, a smirk on his face. Tessa felt a stifling wave of anger flare inside her. _What was causing this black mood of his?_ Will had been perfectly tolerable – well, as tolerable as someone like Will could be—yesterday. And yet this morning, he was all insolence and impatient words. He was looking down at his plate again.

"Yes, I am sorry." Jem said. He looked slightly taken aback. Tessa stared at him, and wanted to tell him that Will's infuriating sarcasm deserved no apology. "I wanted to ask," he paused slightly, putting his toast down onto his plate, "If you would do me the honour of being my best man?"

Suddenly, Will's head snapped up, unveiling his tired, wretchedly beautiful face. It hurt to look at him. Tessa repressed a sob from somewhere inside her. Will glanced at Jem, and then shifted his gaze to Tessa. The sensation Tessa felt, she thought, must have been similar to being stabbed straight through with a seraph blade. His procellous blue eyes were searing with emotion, like at the bottom of a flame – the intense blue the hottest and most harmful part. His expression was shocked, as though someone had just knocked his feet out from under him. His lips parted, as if he meant to say something to her.

_But surely he had expected this? _Tessa thought bewilderedly.

And then it vanished. He laughed carelessly, leaning back in his chair, smiling charmingly. "Well, of course I will, Jem," he stared at him, a small hint of reproof visible within his apparently genuine amusement. "And Charlotte was right, you know." He fiddled with the lace of the table cloth momentarily. "You really needn't have asked." His smile waned as he rose stormily from his chair, disrupting the china slightly, and then sauntered unevenly out of the room. Tessa watched him go sadly. He looked intoxicated with sorrow, but Tessa could only hope that she was not the cause.

Jem looked puzzlingly after him, and then his expression melted into a kind of wistfulness. "By the angel, he is in a peculiar mood,"


End file.
